


With You, It Comes So Naturally

by blackorchids



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, American Football, Carnival, F/M, Football, Football Player Harry, High School, Locker Room, PWP without Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackorchids/pseuds/blackorchids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's the star running back at her high school. There's a carnival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With You, It Comes So Naturally

**Author's Note:**

> for madi

The sun is very low in the sky, hidden behind clouds that stretch from one end of the horizon to the other. The air is heavy and thick and it definitely feels like the sky is going to burst open and swallow them whole under pounding rain. Across the unpaved lot is the autumn carnival and the fall festival all squished together onto three acres of hard, light brown dirt.

Leaning up against a car parked far from the entrance of the carnival is a slender blonde form, long, tanned legs in cut-off jean shorts crossed casually at the ankle, ratty white converse encasing each foot. It’s just past twilight and the air is unusually warm and stifling and Madi’s got a fluttery blue blouse draped over her shoulders and a bored expression etched onto her face as she glances once more at her phone.

“Two seconds, my ass,” she mumbles under her breath, glancing at the entrance of the fair for a brief moment before leveling a stare at her Flappy Bird app, trying to decide if losing a few hundred times before he gets back will put her in an even pissier mood.

Five minutes later, she’s ready to launch her phone into the dirt when she hears familiar laughter behind her. She pushes off the red truck and whirls around, Harry’s apologetic face perfectly matching the one she’d pictured in her mind.

“Took you long enough,” she says snippily, watches as he drags a hand through messy hair and pastes on his most cherubic smile, sauntering closer and closer still because he knows she’s unable to resist him for long under extreme proximity.

“Sorry, babe,” he half-croons, tall, lithe body boxing her in against the truck as he leans in and blinks wide, green eyes at her. Madi’s own flicker down to the dark purple jersey across his broad shoulders before scooting back up to meet his eyes. She manages to maintain her irate look, despite her ridiculous weakness in the form of Harry Styles in a football jersey.

“You left me waiting out here, all on my lonesome, for _fifteen_ minutes,” she points out, turning her face away when he tries to lean in to kiss her.

“Mr McCleary cornered me,” he tells her, deep voice low and nothing more than amused, though he’s pouting playfully. “Wanted to make sure I was all pumped up for the game tonight.” When her expression doesn’t slip he pushes his hips against hers, just a bit, and shakes a small bag clutched in the fingers that aren’t trying to sneak their way underneath the hem of her shirt. “I did get you a little something to make up for it, though.”

“That better not be a fucking stuffed duck,” she says, eyes on the plastic sack dubiously. He’s spent the better part of the last two weeks being absurdly interested in toy ducks, rubber or otherwise, planting them around her bedroom and in unobtrusive corners of the school. He was their prized running back and the super-suave senior that everyone swore they’d boned, but he was also a massive dork and no one ever believed Madi when she told them.

She lounges back a little further against the hood of the car, allows him to press a lingering kiss to her reluctantly smiling mouth, watches as he pulls out a very small blue carton of plump, red strawberries.

He carefully deposits the carton into her waiting hands and plucks one right from the top, leaning forward and wrapping his lips around it, biting down stupidly slow. His eyes are straight on hers and he tosses the end of the berry behind him, chewing and swallowing before licking his red-stained lips with a wicked smirk.

He leans forward and tugs her lower lip into his mouth, sucking hard for just a second before pulling back and feeding her a strawberry, pressing it against her lips in the brief moment it takes her to open wide.

Madi raises a smooth eyebrow, wraps her own lips around the berry and sinks her teeth into it. Watches his eyes get darker, eyelids drooping just a fraction of an inch as his gaze zeros in on her mouth, watching with a kind of intensity that sends something hot and dangerous curling low in her belly.

They take turns eating the handful of strawberries, mumbled snark passing between them, the distant noise of the carnival not much more than a background buzzing. Almost before she swallows the last bite of the berry, he’s surging forward, diving straight past casual kissing and choosing instead to lick into her mouth.

He tastes of cotton candy and the berries they’d just fed one another, the sweet, hot heat of his mouth inviting her to kiss him back with a sort of reckless abandon that only ever happened with Harry. He pushes her into the car, pressing forward in between her legs and rolling his hips against her own, crowding her in between the sun-warmed heat of the metal hood and the fiery hot burn of his body.

Harry kisses her the way he does everything else; with the sort of single-minded intensity that makes everything else fade to naught more than background noise, dim and unimportant. 

His fingers ghost across the side of her face, her name dragged from her lips and mumbled deep into the warm skin of her throat where it will be lost forever. He skates his hand down her side, inching the edge of her shirt up to her bra before gripping the soft swell of her hips and rocking his into hers in a graceful move that she will always be silently surprised he managed to pull off.

She grinds against him and he sucks hard on her collarbone, the pressure of it nearly painful and so, so good. Desperate, heady warmth is curling in her belly and she tugs off his jersey with the single-minded goal of dragging her tongue across the swallow bird tattoos inked across his chest. The muscles in his stomach tense when she lightly moves her fingers up, and everywhere her fingertips reach, a path of tiny goosebumps erupt on tanned skin.

The powerful feeling that comes with the knowledge that _he_ reacts this way to _her_ is thrilling and potent and she moves her palms away from his sides to cup his face, drawing his mouth away from the v of her neckline and back to her face.

“Hi,” she whispers to him, blue eyes catching green for a tenth of a second before he kisses her with enough fervor that her long legs wrap around his waist and her toes, light purple nails and all, curl, deep in her shoes. She sinks a hand into his hair and rakes her nails down his back in one clean swipe that has him groaning and pressing his lithe body into hers even closer.

The sky is dotted with stars and his fingers are finally— _finally_ —reaching for the button of her jeans when the cell phone in his pocket starts vibrating and singing the opening lines of Lady Gaga’s _Love Game_.

Madi pulls back with raised eyebrows and Harry does nothing but grin at her, eyelids hooded and hair messed up beyond repair as he fishes out his phone from his pocket and answers without glancing at the caller ID.

He presses it to his ear for all of two seconds before he’s wincing and pulling it back a good few inches, and even Madi can hear the coach’s tinny, angry voice shouting from the other end. She lets her eyes fly heavenward and allows her body to flop back against the car, knocking her head hard into the metal and relishing in the pain that serves to clear her mind from the haze that a half hour of intense tonsil tennis with Harry had brought upon.

“Okay,” Harry’s saying over and over again, his voice not at all concerned about the fact that Coach seems ready to bust an artery. Eventually, he hangs up, cutting off the man’s voice with a casual tap of his finger on the screen, and then he leans forward in obvious hope that their previous activities that were leading towards them having sex against the hood of his pick-up like every damn country song there is, would continue.

“Not gonna happen,” Madi says loudly, pressing her palms against the heat of his chest and pushing, just a little bit. “Even if you _weren’t_ about to get reamed a new one by Coach Vic, that song just completely put me off of you for, like, a month.”

“Ma- _di_ ,” he whines and she snorts, hopping off the hood of the truck and buttoning her pants, yanking down her blouse and fixing her bra. He watches with another ludicrous pout on bee-stung lips, not moving to find his jersey and tug it back on until she digs deep into his pocket and yanks out his car keys.

“You’re going to be late to your own damn homecoming game, superstar,” she says primly, pressing his keys into his proffered hand and throwing open the door to the passenger seat. He pouts at her for another moment through the window before sighing wistfully and moving around the front of the truck to the driver’s side.

-

“This is a disaster,” Madi mumbles to Rebecca, huddling under the hood of the stolen grey and purple sweatshirt with STYLES written across the back in blocky, white lettering. The sky had opened up and started _pouring_ halfway through the third quarter, and the score was tied, forty-two to forty-two, with nine minutes left on the clock. The stands are over-crowded with now-soaking students and the occasional parent, and the band sounds a little drowned despite the tarp they’d put up over their section in preparation.

Their quarterback, a small super-senior with inhumanely perfect aim and throw, had slipped and Madi could easily imagine the crunch that had probably sounded when a lineman from the other team accidentally stepped on his ankle. The only reason anyone even knew it was an accident was because the lineman had been insanely apologetic, hoisting Louis’ small form up and keeping him balanced on one foot until Harry and the coach had gotten there, followed very closely by the school’s athletic trainer.

Louis had been replaced by some scrawny sophomore, and Madi honestly has absolutely no idea how he’d even managed to make it onto the varsity team with throws like the ones he was doing. Harry was probably losing his patience with every passing second, but he keeps up a cheerful, reassuring smile when Head-Coach Simon calls the second time out in ten minutes to shout at Justin.

Madi stuffs her knuckles into her mouth and bites down on them when the boys line up once more and the whistle blows. Harry has to twist a little awkwardly to catch the throw, the white of his spandex covered in mud on his left side from when he’d been tackled earlier. He catches the ball though, and lands hard but manages to stay upright. He takes off, sliding a bit in the beginning but regaining his footing and shooting towards the touchdown line all the way on the other end of the field.

He makes it past the halfway point when he slips, and a defensive fullback gains five yards on him. He slips again at the thirty-yard line, and then the fullback is _diving_ at Harry’s legs, knocking them out from under him, and the two of them go tumbling, fighting for the ball.

Madi has no idea what happens then, because, suddenly the ball is a couple feet away from them and Harry is slamming his fist at the guy, again and again, sloppy underhooks to reach under the face guard of the helmet.

Madi’s high up in the stands, but she can hear Head-Coach Simon fucking _bellowing_ at Harry, and the referees’ whistles are going off like crazy, and one of them even throws a yellow flag at Harry, as though that tiny piece of brightly-colored fabric is going to hold back a hundred and eighty two pounds of enraged teenage boy. An awful lot of the girls in the crowd are shrieking and the boys are whooping and two of Harry’s teammates are rushing onto the field to attempt to drag him away.

Rebecca’s nearly frantic when she pushes her a little bit, making aborted gestures and hissing half-sentences that can scarcely be heard over the chaos, telling her to get down there and figure out what happened.

Madi loses sight of the fight for a few seconds as she clamors down the crowded steps of the bleachers, shoving kids aside when they don’t move on their own, and when she makes it down to the mid-way point, the area long and slightly narrow. Harry’s two teammates have gotten him off of the other kid, and Simon storms towards him, the other boys melting away to the side as he grabs a hold of Harry’s helmet, pulling his head down so he can look the boy in the eyes.

Even from this distance, Madi can see that Simon is furious, but Harry doesn’t seem to care much, nodding curtly before all but shoving Simon away and stalking off, past the sidelines and out of Madi’s line of view.

She shoves straightened blonde hair behind her ears and pulls up the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time and easing her way through, around the bleachers and through the fence that separates the fans from the athletes. The football team has their own locker rooms away from those of the rest of the boys’ sports teams, and they’re on the south end of the field, behind the farthest set of bleachers.

Madi finds Harry in there, sitting on a wooden bench in the dim room, helmet and mouth guard on the floor near the entrance. His elbows are on his knees, and his head is bent down, but he’s still trembling with adrenalin and anger, and when he looks up sharply at her entrance, Madi feels a boiling-hot rush tumble through her body, evaporating all of the previous worry and replacing it with a constant thrum of heat that draws her closer to Harry, unflinching, even when he shoots off the bench like a rocket and hulks towards her.

Harry reaches her in half a second flat, taller still in his cleats, his hair damp with sweat and drooping over one eye, curling behind his ears and at the nape of his neck. He’s got a smudge of dirt across his jaw and up his cheek. 

His hands grab her hips roughly, pulling her towards him in a quick move, and then he’s got a handful of her hair tangled in one fist as he yanks her head back so he can slot his lips over hers in a bruising, open-mouthed kiss.

He tastes nothing like he had three hours previously, the vague lingering of the rubber of his mouth guard mixing with the sweat on his face and something entirely _Harry_ deep in the recesses of his mouth. He pushes the long lines of his body into hers, further and further back until her the curve of her spine crashes into a line of violet lockers.

Someone’s lock is digging into her hip, but Harry’s still pushing into her, fingers of his free hand gripping her hip hard enough she’s sure he’s going to leave the prints of his fingers there in a quiet, physical echo of the mark he’ll leave on her heart, when he’s through.

All Madi can feel is Harry, surrounding her, encompassing her so completely, his anger boiling hot beneath his skin as she tries to keep up with him. One of her hands gropes around until she manages to tangle it in his hair and her other roves down his front blindly until she reaches the laces of his football pants.

“Pull them,” he breaths heavily into her ear before mouthing at a spot behind her lobe that makes her want to keen with pleasure even as she tries to focus enough to get his pants undone and fit a slim hand into his damn padded compression shorts. They’ve switched spots somehow, his back arching against the lockers, veins in his neck prominent as he clenches his jaw with anticipation.

Harry groans sharply when she manages to get a hand around his rapidly-hardening cock, and the fist in her hair tightens painfully for just a second before it’s smoothing out and pushing down, just a little bit.

Swallowing hard, Madi allows him to guide her head down lower and lower until she’s left with no other choice but to drop to her knees, ignoring the uncomfortable hardness of the concrete floor under her bare flesh.

Harry’s hand continues to push her head, his breath already panting a little bit, as he ruts his hips up and the head of his dick bumps against her lips.

Harry’s eyelids are hooded, the green reduced to a thin sliver around his blown pupils as he stares down at her, and Madi takes a deep, steadying breath before swallowing once more and steeling her resolve. She flicks her tongue out at the head, breathing a little hard as she laves at the top, paying attention to the slit and trying to keep note of what he seems to like by the noises he makes.

She pulls her mouth down lower, licking at the underside and almost wishing she had more time to just _look_ and figure out everything, but she figures there might be time for that later, if she’s lucky, and so she lets her attention return to the head of Harry’s cock. She looks at it for a brief second, glistening, a bead of precum pooling up, and then she wraps her lips around it, feeling triumphant when Harry’s head slams back against the lockers and his fist clenches and unclenches in her hair. She gets one hand around the base of him and the other gripped over his hip, thumb absently moving in circles around the left side of his v-line.

Madi opens her eyes and looks up at him, veins in his neck standing out prominently as he swallows tight and she breathes carefully through her nose before sucking hard, cheeks hallowing out as she fits more of him into her mouth.

Harry’s fist smoothes out in her hair once more, but he’s pushing a little bit, like he can’t help but ask for more, and she sucks again, tongue swirling around the underside of his cock, and hmm-ing at the broken groan that comes from his mouth, sounding as though it’s been pulled from deep within. His hips rut up and Madi gags, her eyes watering a little bit, some of her own spit leaking out from the corner of her mouth, but Harry’s eyes are open again, and he’s watching her with that intensity that takes her by surprise every single time, so she does her best to manage with the new length of him in her mouth, pushing at her throat.

He’s trembling a little bit, and Madi sucks hard and bobs her head, her hand working the part of him that she can’t reach with her mouth even as she slips her mouth off of his cock with a truly obscene _pop_ and drags her tongue along the slit again, blowing because it’s called a damn blowjob, for fuck’s sake. She scrapes her tongue across her top teeth and lets the hand on his hip slip down to cup his balls as she wraps her lips around him once more and hmm’s again because he’d seemed to like that before.

Harry jerks into her mouth one more time, coming with a shout, fist in her hair and holding her in place and suddenly she’s nearly choking on the taste of him, slightly bitter, as it fills her mouth, until she remembers to swallow it. She sucks one last time before his hand releases his grip on her now-ruined hair and his head falls back against the lockers once more, all of the tension in his body obviously gone.

Madi takes a shuddering breath and wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand, rocking back onto her feet before she clamors up and swallows one more time, eyeing Harry, languid and watching her from droopy eyes, before she runs a hand through her hair and shifts away to find a bottle of water and a few napkins.

He catches up to her ten minutes later, wraps his arms around her waist as she tries in vain to fix her hair in the mirror and dabs at the corner of her eyes to remove the makeup that had run.

He doesn’t say anything, just pushes forward into her the way he always does, presses a gentle, opened mouth kiss to her skin, where the bruise from earlier, at the fair, is purple against the column of her neck.

**Author's Note:**

> lol i've never written smut before
> 
>  
> 
> come talk to me or prompt me on tumblr [@rosalinesbenvolio](http://www.rosalinesbenvolio.tumblr.com)!!


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